


The Masked Avengers

by that_one_kid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Where they all work at StarkTech, But no one knows who anyone is, F/M, M/M, Only it's all of them, Secret Identity, They're called the Masked Avengers, and they're a goddamn mess, identity reveals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-16 07:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and financial backer for the Avengers, has a secret. So do his bodyguard, his personal assistant, a Stark Industries lab tech, a Stark Industries R&D art designer, and that guy who just wants his hammer.But a few things are about to come to light.





	1. Identi-Tony

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a very silly premise but it was immensely fun to write. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for canon-typical violence, homophobia, blackmail, and references to past abuse. Each chapter will have trigger warnings for that chapter at the end.

Tony likes to think of himself as a reasonable employer. He pays well, offers excellent health benefits, recognized same-sex couples as eligible for full benefits long before marriage equality passed, and only occasionally does something that inconveniences his employees. Except for HR, who he bribes regularly with pizza and free tech. But for all his generosity, his employees are still too damn nosy for his taste.

 

After all, he has a secret identity to maintain.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Hey, Boss!” Clint called as he walked into the workshop. Tony mumbled something approaching a greeting, totally absorbed in the delicate soldering he was working on. Clint ambled past him to his desk in the corner, checking the locks on the windows as he passed them. “Hey, you made me a new toy!” Clint crowed as he finally flopped into his chair.

“It’s not a toy,” Tony corrected automatically. “It’s a prototype.”

“Right, right,” Clint said, sounding completely unconvinced. He picked up the new pistol and sighted along it. “It’s light.”

“Tranq gun,” Tony said, finally finishing the circuit and pushing his chair back. “All the thrills of an actual gun with less of the bleeding and dying afterward.”

“I feel like the bleeding and dying part would discourage other people from trying to kill you.” Clint pointed out. “Which, I have to say, would make my job easier.” Tony ignored him and sniffed the air.

“Do I smell coffee?”

“You do,” Clint confirmed, still looking over the gun. “Does this shoot a dart?”

“No,” Tony said, snapping the clip out and handing it to him. “The bullet dissipates on impact and releases a subcutaneous tranquilizer. FitzSimmons actually made it, I just thought we’d try it out on you before it hits the general market. Why do I smell coffee?”

“Aw, Stark, you know I love it when I get to play guinea pig,” Clint said. “And you smell coffee because the new P.A. is here.”

“And she brought coffee? I like her already,” Tony said, standing and stretching.

“Don’t scare this one off,” Clint chastised as Tony headed for the door to the workshop lobby. “Pepper says the next severance package comes out of my salary.”

“That sounds like a mistake,” Tony mused, pausing with one hand on the door. “Out of everyone to not pay, my bodyguard seems like the wrong choice.”

“Guess that’ll motivate you,” Clint said, shrugging smoothly and tossing a dart at the dartboard across the room. Despite the distance, he hit the bulls-eye easily.

“Someday you’re going to explain how you do that,” Tony called over his shoulder as he left the room. As the door swung shut behind him, he heard Clint shout after him,

“Sheer animal magnetism!”

Tony rolled his eyes and then turned his full attention to the blonde woman standing in front of him. She held out a giant coffee and smiled cheerily.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she said in a faint Brooklyn accent. He took the coffee and drained half of it in one go, making a probably inappropriate noise as the caffeine hit his bloodstream.

“You are amazing,” he informed her.

“Thank you.”

“Pepper sent you?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Natalie Rushman.”

“Which department are you from, Ms. Rushman?” Tony asked, gesturing at her to follow him into his workshop. She obliged, and he held the door for her.

“Legal, sir.”

“Oh, so you worked for Coulson,” Tony said, and watched Clint tune into the conversation. “And you can drop the ‘sir’, Ms. Rushman. No need for that.”

“Feel free to call him Stark,” Clint chimed in from his desk. “Or T-man. Or Fluffy.”

“Seriously, how do you still work for me?” Tony said with a sigh.

“It must be his raw animal magnetism,” Natalie deadpanned, and Clint’s jaw dropped open. Tony started laughing, partly at the unexpected joke and partly at the look of utter betrayal on Clint’s face.

“You heard that, I see,” Clint said, now pouting.

“Well, Ms. Rushman, you brought me coffee and sassed my bodyguard. You could probably poison me and I’d still like you.”

“But don’t,” Clint added. “I’d get in trouble,”

“Don’t worry,” Natalie directed her gaze at Stark, cool green eyes levelly meeting his. “I hear legal frowns on that.”

“You would know.” Tony agreed. “You’ll let me know when I have appointments, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Natalie said. “You have only one today, a three o’clock with Justin Hammer.”

“Gross,” Clint said.

“Cancel it,” Tony agreed, falling onto the workshop couch.

“What reason do you want to give?” she asked, a notepad suddenly in her hand.

“That he’s an insufferable prick and an asshole to boot,” Tony said cheerfully. Natalie looked unfazed.

“I will inform Mr. Hammer that you’re caught up finishing a new prototype with an upcoming deadline and will, unfortunately, be unable to make your 3 o’ clock. Do you need anything else?” Tony was going to make a snide comment when a balled up piece of paper hit him in the back of the head. Clint, reminding him to behave.

“No, thank you, Ms. Rushman,” Tony said. She nodded to him, glanced at Clint, and left the room.

“Pepper said not to scare her off,” Clint groused after the door had swung shut again.

“Somehow I doubt that’ll be a problem with her,” Tony said, and then got back to work. When he emerged into reality again, Clint was eating a sandwich and there was a styrofoam container of something that smelled delicious sitting on his workbench. And a spoon.

“What is this?” he asked Clint, who shrugged.

“Food,” he managed to say around a huge mouthful of pastrami.

“Informative,” Tony said, already opening the container. Inside, delicate dumplings floated in broth. “Wow. Do you think she went all the way downtown to get this?”

“I don’t question the mysterious ways of P.A.s,” Clint said, brushing crumbs off of his desk. “I’d like to retain my sanity.”

“Retain implies you are currently sane,” Natalie said from behind Tony, and he almost fell off his chair.

“Hi, Ms. Rushman,” he managed. “Clint, thanks for the warning.” Clint gave him a pseudo-innocent look.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “There are no discernable threats to your health or safety present, sir,”

“Stop that,” Tony grumbled. “Thank you for lunch, Ms. Rushman.”

“My pleasure. And if you’d prefer, please feel free to call me Natalie.”

“Well, then you are welcome to call me Tony. But do please refrain from calling me any of the names Clint offered.”

“I will do my level best,” she said seriously, and Tony grinned. She vanished back into the lobby, and he busied himself eating soup and redrawing some designs for a new arc reactor. Since FitzSimmons had brought him their new element, Starkium, he’d been able to swap out the Palladium cores that had been damaging his systems. And when he’d protested the name, they’d pointed out they never would have been able to synthesize it without his dad’s old files, which he’d had them working on uploading into Stark Industry’s new electronic filing system. A klaxon sounded from Clint’s phone, and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Heads up news alert,” Clint said, already standing. He had his gun drawn and quickly closed the distance to Tony, hand closing firmly on his arm. “MODOK was just sighted in New York, heading here.”

“Evacuate the building and notify the Masked Avengers,” he snapped, but before Clint could even move towards his computer the evacuation notice began sounding.

“Sir, we have to get you to safety now,” Clint said, and led him quickly towards the elevator in the back of the workshop. Tony, unprotesting, went along, already planning which suit he could take that would be least vulnerable to MODOK’s technopathic abilities. Moments later, they were arriving at a compact safe room, where Tony quickly stepped inside and Clint swung up to his defensive perch outside.

“See you on the other side,” Tony said, and shut the door. He waited a second, then activated a secret panel on the wall. One of the walls slid silently aside, and he stepped into his highest security-protocol armor. It slid shut around him with a smooth click, and he carefully activated the exit protocols. The suit whirred softly as it came to life, and then fired the thrusters in the carefully pre-programmed sequence that sent him rocketing through the tunnels to the surface, without ever alerting his ever-present bodyguard to his disappearance. As soon as he was in the sky, he activated his comms.

“Sound off,” he called, and banked back towards Stark Tower.

“Widow,” came a curt voice, her thick Russian accent tightly controlled.

“Hawkeye,” said the archer, his vocal modulator still somehow conveying his amusement.

“Captain,” came a familiar commanding voice over the comms.

“SMASH!” roared a loud voice, and Tony winced.

“Hulk, buddy, nice to see you again, but we talked about the volume thing,”  Hawkeye chided gently. Hulk growled back at him, but it was softer this time.

“Who’s nearby?” Cap called out.

“I been on scene for ten,” Widow called, and then grunted with an unseen impact. “MODOK trying to take Stark’s computer bank. Very determined.”

“You’re taking on MODOK alone?” Tony said, putting a little extra into thrusters.

“Seemed better than all of us fighting an alive Stark Tower, Iron Man,” Widow said, tone sharp.

“Fair enough,” Tony said. “I’m here, where are you?” He saw a flash of flame and then a billowing plume of smoke from the ground outside the front doors. “Never mind, I see you.” He swooped in, low and fast, and saw a flash of short red hair as Widow slipped under MODOK and attached an EMP.

“Clear!” she yelled, and Tony dove around the corner of the tower as a sphere of blue electricity engulfed the floating technopath.

“No dice,” Hawkeye called, and an arrow arched down from somewhere above them. Ice spread, engulfing one of the joints on MODOK’s thrashing left arm. “He must be shielded.”

“Fool me once, and all that,” Cap said, hurtling around the corner on his motorcycle. His shield hummed through the air and smashed into the screen showing MODOK’s face. He screeched and jerked backward, nearly flattening Cap, who Hawkeye yanked out of the way at the last second.

“It was very satisfying to watch him just shut down last time,” Tony agreed. “But I expect he’s adapted.”

“Tell your sponsor that we need better tech,” Hawkeye told Tony, who smirked inside his helmet.

“Yeah, I’m sure Mr. Stark will be thrilled to hear that,” he responded snidely.

“Well, tell him-”

“Are Americans capable of quiet?” Widow barked, and landed on MODOK, planting her feet and firing her Widow’s Bites into an input port. MODOK screamed, and jerked forward several feet, tossing Widow forward and up at an alarming velocity. Tony dove and grabbed her, slowing her forward motion and flying her back over the fight. Up close, the china doll mask she wore was deeply unsettling.

“Widow’s right. Keep the comms clear,” Cap called back.

“Hey, Widow, wanna try a trick shot?” Hawkeye called.

“Do it,” she responded tersely, and turned the blank mask to Tony. “Drop me.” He did, without question, and she fell the four or so feet, grabbing an arrow Clint had just fired out of the air on the way down. As she landed, she slammed it into the input port she’d found earlier, and rolled off and out of the way.

“Cap?” she called, and he jumped up and over, slamming his shield down into the reinforced arrow and driving it into the port. MODOK sparked and fell to the ground, followed by a resounding crash - slightly offset from when he hit the ground. Tony spun around to see a very disappointed Hulk.

“Hulk miss smash,” he grumbled sadly, and Tony heard Hawkeye yelp behind him.

“Nope! Nope, smashing very much needed!” He spun to see MODOK, sparking and furious, rising quickly from the ground. His HUD registered something moving very fast, and then Hulk hurtled over his head, slamming MODOK back into the ground and shattering the casing on the… giant head?

“Wow,” Hawkeye continued, more levelly now. “Have I mentioned I’m glad he’s on our side?”

“Good work, team,” Cap called.

“There is incoming,”  Widow said, sounding distracted for a moment. Tony caught a glimpse of her as he landed, typing away furiously on her phone. “Picking up SHIELD chatter.”

“That’s our cue,” Tony said. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

It took the Masked Avengers less than a minute to disband, and Tony hovered for a moment longer to make sure everyone was clear before he angled himself back toward the tower. SHIELD tended to ask uncomfortable questions about names and addresses - and there was a reason no one, not even the other Masked Avengers, knew anyone’s identity. Some of them, like Hawkeye and Iron Man, even disguised their voices. But Black Widow had scornfully said no one would recognize her voice unless she wanted them to (which Tony doubted, given the thickness of her obviously native Russian accent, but never questioned) and the Cap had said no one would ever guess who he was, and Hulk was… Hulk. Still, they did their best to avoid the worst of the questions.

One uncomfortably narrow tunnel later, Tony was stepping carefully out of his armor and sliding the wall closed behind him. He had enough time to settle in his saferoom lounge chair and pick up a discarded blueprint before Clint’s voice came in through the loudspeakers.

“All clear, Boss,” he said. “SHIELD has MODOK in custody now.”

“Excellent, I was getting bored,” Tony said, standing and stretching as the door slid open. “No, who am I kidding, I was bored the minute I set foot in here.”

“I know you don’t like waiting these fights out, Tony, but it’s safer to let the Masked Avengers handle this stuff. It’s what you equip them for, after all.” Clint said, dropping down to walk next to him.

“I know,” Tony said, heaving a put-upon sigh. “It would just be nice if people would stop targeting my tower.”

“Have you considered hyping up Hammer Industries?” Clint said, giving Tony a crooked grin. “Maybe then the supervillains would go for his tech.”

“Hyping up Hammer? I’ll take the invading mutants and evildoers,” Tony said, and caught a flicker of a disapproving expression on Clint’s face. “What?”

“Mutants aren’t all evil,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. Tony’s amusement faded, and he put a hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Is 'invading giant AIM heads and evildoers' better?” Clint nodded, and smiled at him.

“Gotta watch out for those,” he agreed, and they continued on up to the upper levels. Tony was surprised to find Natalie at her desk.

“What are you doing here, Natalie?” he asked. She looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

“They sounded the all-clear,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, but… giant evil floating head on your first day and you came back? Didn’t take it as an omen?” Tony asked, and she laughed.

“I’ve worked here for a long time. This isn’t my first MODOK attack, nor do I intend for it to be my last.” Tony turned to Clint and raised an eyebrow.

“See? I told you she’d last.” Clint, heading in to clear the workshop, was amused.

“Never doubted it.”


	2. Worst Day Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was just trying to be subtle, for once. Why did everything always get so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for chapter trigger warnings

“So, that fellow in legal,” Tony started, one rainy afternoon. Clint didn’t look up from the rifle he was cleaning, but Tony could have sworn he saw his ears perk up. “What’s his name again?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Clint replied carelessly.

“Coulton? Coleman?” Tony mused, and Clint put down the rifle to look at him.

“Seriously? You want to talk about boys? Are we 12-year-old girls at a sleepover? Did everyone forget to tell me?”

“C’mon,” Tony said, striking a pose. “I’d look great in pigtails.” Clint snorted.

“Yes, Coulson, what about him?”

“You liiiiiiiiike him,” Tony sing-songed, and ducked the shoe Clint flung in his general direction. “What?” he asked, laughing. “You do!”

“Oh, so we’re not gonna talk about how you creepily stare at that artist dude from Brand Development? At least I actually talk to Coulson.”

“First of all, I’m his boss, so no, we won’t talk about it. And second of all, Steve is a work of art himself.”

“What happened to not talking about it?” Clint asked, and Tony shot him a look.

“I lied.”

“Mr. Stark,” Natalie said, opening the door from the lobby. “Talking to yourself again? Someone’s here to see you.” Clint glanced over and immediately stiffened. Tony, following his line of sight, saw Natalie, calm and poised as ever, but with one hand moving quickly in front of her leg. He recognised the motions as ASL. Clint pushed past him.

“Get down,” he hissed and shoved Tony toward a workbench. He looked at Natalie again. Now that he knew to look, he could see her eyes were wide and her face slightly pale.

“Gimme five seconds, Nat!” Tony called, keeping his tone chipper and light. He held up five fingers and she nodded. Clint crept closer to the door. Tony tucked himself behind a workbench, still counting down with his fingers. When he put the last finger down, Natalie dropped like a stone and Clint dove over her, gun drawn. Tony heard four gunshots and Natalie’s scream before Clint called out an all-clear. A few seconds later, he walked back into the workshop, supporting Natalie with an arm around her waist. Tony was there in an instant, helping her to a chair and passing her a bottle of water. She sank down into the chair, but her color was already returning and she didn’t seem like she was going into shock.

“Two assailants,” Clint reported cheerfully. “Security is on their way up to get ‘em. Good news, you can tell FitzSimmons their gun works.”

“It certainly does,” Natalie said, cracking the water open and taking a long sip.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked. “I have to be honest, you’re handling this really well.”

“I was a bank teller in college,” Natalie said, taking another drink of water and standing slowly back up. “We got held up a couple of times. They just caught me off guard, away from the silent alert button.”

“What called you away from your desk?” Clint asked, and Tony kicked at his shins.

“Give her a minute, Clint,” he chided. “And if _I’m_ giving you sensitivity lessons, you know you’re doing badly.”

“No, no, I’m all right,” Natalie reassured him. “I got up because I heard a commotion in the hallway.”

“Was it them?” Clint asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the gunmen in the lobby.

“No. It was a large man, very muscular, long blonde hair. He was trying to fight his way here through security. He was yelling something about a hammer. Then I turned around and those men were behind me.” Clint and Tony traded significant glances, and Natalie raised an eyebrow.

“Am I missing something?” she asked.

“Stark Industries tracked a meteorite that crashed just outside of a small town in New Mexico,” Tony started. “We couldn’t move it, so we set up a temporary research center around it. It looked like a hammer.”

“Could it be a coincidence?” Natalie asked.

“Maybe,” Clint drawled. “Except a man matching that exact description broke into that facility a few weeks ago and ran rampant, until an intern Tasered his ass and I threw him in a holding cell. So if he’s here…” Tony was already dialing the New Mexico branch.

“Hi, can you put me through to the people at the Thor Holding Cell?” he said. Natalie mouthed ‘Thor?’ at Clint. “Yeah, it’s urgent.” He waited a second before an unfamiliar timid voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is Tony Stark. To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Dr. Foster. Dr. Jane Foster? I was on the team Stark Industries sent to analyze the astrophysical phenomenon surrounding the arrival of the object.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Foster,” Tony said, keeping his voice light. “I’m trying to reach the holding cell that’s supposed to have the man we found attempting to access the artifact. Can you put me through?”

“Er, yes, well, that’s the phone you’ve called. I just came down here and found it like this.”

“Like what?” Tony asked, fear building.

“All the guards are down. Sorry! Unconscious! They’re just unconscious. I checked for a pulse and called the EMTs. And the cell is torn open.”

“How?” Tony burst out, rubbing at his eyes. When no answer was immediately forthcoming he continued. “Alright. Thank you for your help today.”

“Of course,” Dr. Foster continued. “And, I don’t know if this is related, but we’re discovering some very interesting phenomenon around the... hammer.”

“Please, speculate - where do you think it came from?”

“I wouldn’t like to say without more data, but…” Dr. Foster trailed off. “Have you ever heard of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge?”

“The data says this thing is from another _dimension_? Tony asked, incredulously.

“Or it traveled through a wormhole on the way here, yes,” Dr. Foster confirmed. “The paramedics are here, I should…”

“Yes, go. Thank you. I’ll be in touch shortly.” Tony said, and hung up. Clint and Natalie’s eyes were wide. So were his, he imagined.

“Well,” he said, on a huff. “This is not how I expected talking about boys to go.”

“I dunno,” Clint said, crossing his arms. “This seems about right.”

~ ~ ~

Steve was having a very bad day. First, he’d missed his morning run because of the rain and therefore hadn’t been able to stop by his favorite coffee shop. Missing coffee meant he’d missed his usual morning routine of drinking an Americano and admiring from afar the CEO of StarkTech who apparently frequented the same back-alley coffee shop he did. Then, his design for a new Iron Legion design got rejected for being “too friendly”. And then MODOK attacked while he was on lunch break and he had to change into uniform in a Taco Bell bathroom and climb out the window.

So when a large, blonde, heavily muscled man ran past screaming in the hallway, Steve let security take care of it. Until he saw all of security rush past restraining the man moments before he heard four gunshots from a floor up. He managed to get into uniform in under a minute, grabbed his shield, and made it to the source of the gunfire in just a few more minutes. He forced open the door to the small lobby outside some kind of workshop and froze.

Standing inside, apparently deep in conversation, was Tony Stark himself. He was talking to a slight blonde woman in business formal and a man holding a pistol who was in khakis and a button-down. Stark didn’t seem to notice him, but the man and the woman both looked over at him and stared as soon as he opened the door. After a second, Tony followed their lines of sight.

“Oh! Er, Captain!” Stark said with a start. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Steve, suddenly realizing that “I heard gunfire” would probably expose his cover identity, scrambled for a reasonable excuse.

“I was, um- I was checking the building to make sure MODOK’s attack wasn’t to cover for someone infiltrating the building.”

“Smart thinking,” Stark said, frowning. “But Iron Man didn’t tell me you’d be doing that.”

“Oh, I… I forgot to mention. Just routine stuff, you know.”

“Of course,” Stark conceded. “Well, thank you, but all is well here.” Steve, raising an eyebrow despite knowing that his face was totally concealed behind his helmet and mask, gestured at the unconscious mercenaries that the man in khakis was now disarming.

“Oh, right, I’d forgotten about them. Lots going on today,” Stark said, and Steve didn’t even think he was being sarcastic. “Security will be here to pick them up shortly.”

“I saw them go past with some man yelling something about a hammer?” Steve said, and Stark sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Yes, unfortunately, I am aware. It’s been a long day, Captain.”

“Well, then I will let you get some rest. Would you like me to deliver them to SHIELD for you?” Steve nudged one of the unconscious men with a foot.

“That would be great. Be careful, though. They should be out for several hours but the tech is still experimental.” Stark said, and Steve nodded. The blonde woman and the man in khakis were talking softly in the corner and shooting glances at Steve, so he gave them a little wave before he grabbed the two men and left.

He got a few strange looks leaving the building, but New Yorkers knew better than to get involved with the Masked Avengers, so no one stopped him. He dropped off the two unconscious mercs to an irritated Agent Hill without answering any of her questions besides what the men had done and walked back to his bike.

The rain had cleared, so he was planning on taking a nice long ride to clear his head and forget the day, but he’d only gone a block when he got a feeling something was about to go terribly wrong. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but to no avail. After a few minutes, he decided to humor the feeling and headed back to Stark Towers.

It was only four, so the building was still lit up and busy. Deciding to be inconspicuous for once that day, Steve went back in his work clothes. He got a few floors in when the feeling of unease spiked. He glanced around, finding only a single unmarked door. Feeling increasingly unsure of his actions, he gently edged the door open. It opened on a totally dark room. Inside, he could hear soft whimpering.

“Hello?” he called softly. “Is someone here?”

“Go away,” a pained voice said. “Leave me alone.”

“I want to help,” Steve said softly, stepping carefully inside. “Are you hurt?”

“I said GO AWAY!” the voice shouted, and Steve carefully stilled on the doorframe. Then he heard a pained gasp and a terrible sound of ripping flesh and tearing bones. He reached frantically for a light switch, and when he found one he fumbled it on. In the room with him, barely four feet away, was the Hulk. Then the ground under the green giant gave way, and with a bellow, he fell through into the room below.

“Look out!” Steve shouted to whoever was below, diving forward to the edge of the gaping hole. For a horrifying frozen moment Steve just peered down into the terribly familiar room below, heart pounding and stomach twisted. Staring calmly at the bellowing Hulk was the small blonde woman he’d seen earlier that day with Stark.

“It’s certainly a popular day for drop-in visitors,” she said in her light Brooklyn accent, and oh my god, she was joking? While facing down the Hulk? Steve prepared to drop down, but the woman glanced up at him and shook her head firmly as if she’d guessed what he was about to do.

“We’re okay, aren’t we, Hulk?” she said, voice calm, like she was talking to a spooked horse. “We’re okay, right? We don’t want anything bad to happen to the people in this building, do we?” Steve, knew full well that although the tone was meant for the Hulk, the words were meant for him. Confronting the Hulk here, inside the center of Stark Tower during business hours, would be devastating.

“It would be nice if everyone just left for the day, wouldn’t it,” the woman said, holding her ground as Hulk impatiently stamped a few steps towards her. “No fuss, no noise, just people leaving.” Steve, already running for the lobby, spared a moment to realize how much she reminded him of Peggy.

“I need a silent alarm, with no lights or anything in the 8th-floor workshop,” he said, panting at the front desk. When the receptionist just stared at him, he realized suddenly he wasn’t in uniform. “Please! Tony Stark is in danger and the Hulk is in the building!” The receptionist, glancing at his employee badge, quickly began typing. A second later, soft red lights around the room came up and people started spilling into the hallways. The receptionist called Stark’s phone, and nodded at Steve when he’d gotten a connection. A second later, his Masked Avengers card vibrated softly in his wallet.

“They’re headed out the back. Time to evacuate. The Masked Avengers are on their way.” the receptionist said. Steve thought back, thought about the woman currently trying to talk down the Hulk, and nodded. Then, when the receptionist turned to answer a question, he bolted back into the hallway. He grabbed out his Avengers comm and stuck it in his ear. Cover be damned, the Hulk wouldn’t wait for him to get into uniform. Steve had just reached the fourth floor when Iron Man crashed up through the floor next to him.

“Steve?” Iron Man said, with utter incredulity, and Steve only had a second to process that Iron Man knew his name when there was a roar, and the door to the workshop lobby slammed open. The blonde woman from before shot out at a dead sprint, but the wall behind her exploded and the Hulk caught up to her in two huge strides. He swatted at her, backhand, and she went sideways through the hallway wall and into another room. Steve and Iron Man were already bolting forward when a ragged voice with a heavy Russian accent came over comms.

“Distraction,” Widow panted, and Steve slipped under Hulk’s swatting arm to shove him from behind. He desperately missed his shield. Iron Man made some kind of inarticulate noise of surprise and Steve knew his cover was well and truly blown.

“What kind of distraction, Widow?” Steve barked, but she didn’t reply. After a second, though, a familiar modulated voice responded.

“I found the distraction. Do I get a cookie?”

“Cut the chatter, Hawkeye, Widow may be down.” Steve snapped, and Hawkeye cursed loudly over the comms.

“Where?” he snapped, and Iron Man’s voice answered, projected both over the comm and from the suit next to him.

“Unclear. But we’ve got a civilian down, fourth floor, outside the big lab,” he turned his expressionless faceplate toward Steve. “Go get her, Cap, I’ll get the big guy.”

“She was facing down the Hulk,” Steve said as he ran for the hole in the wall. “Trying to talk him down until the building was clear.” He ducked through, finding a small pile of rubble and a smear of blood, but no woman. “She’s not here, Iron Man!”

“Jarvis,” Iron Man snapped. “Scan for life signs.”

“Belay that, Jarvis,” Hawkeye yelled. “Sorry, took me a second but civilians are clear, including your mystery blonde woman. And guess who I found!” Hawkeye and Widow dropped through the ceiling on a climbing line. Hawkeye had an arm wrapped around Widow’s waist, and she was holding two pistols. She was also covered in blood (possibly hers) and even given what little Steve knew of her body language, obviously pissed.

“Status, Widow?” Cap asked, and there was a moment of silence as everyone realized he’d been unmasked.

“I will live,” Widow answered, but her accent was thickened and her words halting. “Hydra is storming tower. Met some at upper levels.”

“Anyone know what the hell happened to Hulk?” Iron Man asked, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

“Um,” Steve said sheepishly. “I think I might have happened to Hulk.” Widow’s head snapped around, and he dropped his gaze. “I guess, Iron Man, you know who I am?”

“You work here,” Iron Man said, his voice cautious.

“We have no time for this.” Widow said. “You explain. We destroy Hydra goons. Talk fast.” She and Hawkeye clambered back up their line and vanished.

“Right, so I got this feeling,” Steve said quickly, leading Iron Man in a quick jog following the devastation the Hulk had left behind. “Like something was about to go wrong. And so I came here, in my work clothes. I opened this unmarked door that I felt drawn to, and heard someone in pain. They yelled at me, told me to get out. But when I turned on the lights, it was just the Hulk in there. Then he fell down a level, and ran into Stark’s secretary. She talked him down for long enough for me to get the building evacuated.”

“Remind me to tell Stark to give her a raise,” Iron Man said, then blasted past Steve. “Hulk, buddy, we need you to calm down.” Just ahead of them, smashing his way through a lab, was the Hulk himself.

“NO!” Hulk shouted, bringing a fist down on a workbench. “SECRET!”

“What’s secret, big guy?” Iron Man asked.

“We all have secrets,” Steve chimed in. “It’s okay.”

“SECRET OUT!” Hulk yelled, and abruptly fell into a sitting position. “Secret out,” he said again, almost plaintively.

“Did… did someone find out your cover?” Steve asked. “Because if so, you can know that the other Avengers found out mine, too.” Iron Man shot him a surprised look, but he kept going. “We can be found out together, and we’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t worry about security footage,” Iron Man said to both of them. “I’ll just clear it all for today.”

“Will Stark let you do that?” Steve asked incredulously, and Iron Man stood up straighter.

“I’d like to see him try and stop me,” he said, and Steve smiled at him.

“See, Hulk?” Hulk was now idly smashing individual beakers against the floor. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Only the team knows, right? And we trust the team,”

“Speaking of the team,” Hawkeye’s voice came over the comms, a little strained. “The team is missing a few hands up here, and there’s a lot of Hydra goons around.”

“Okay, big guy?” Iron Man asked, and Hulk gave a rough sort of nod. “All right, then, let’s take this fight outside before Stark decides to try and bill me for all this damage. Widow, Hawkeye, can you meet us outside?”

“That part’s going to happen pretty definitely,” Hawkeye said, now distinctly strained even through his voice modulator. “I’m being forced back against a window on the tenth floor. I’m about to really need a ride.”

“On it,” Iron Man said, and blasted out of the nearest window. Steve pointed, and Hulk grabbed him roughly in one hand and leapt out after him. They stuck the landing well enough, just in time to hear shattering glass and a yelp from Hawkeye.

“NOW!” he yelled, and Iron Man swept past, catching him easily in his arms. He landed next to Steve and handed him his shield and his mask.

“Jarvis saw these on your bike,” he said by way of an explanation. “Thought you could use ‘em.” Steve nodded gratefully and pulled his mask on, settling the shield on his arm.

“Drawing them out now,” Widow called over the comms, and a second later the front doors burst open and a flood of Hydra agents poured out, chasing after a slender, red-headed figure.

“Jesus, Widow, what did you do?” Hawkeye asked, drawing his bow and sending some kind of wide-effect taser arrows into the crowd behind her.

“They all reporting to one man,” she panted. “I shot him. They go where I go after that.”

“Did you just kill the head of Hydra?” Iron Man said, sounding impressed.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Steve reminded him, settling into a relaxed loose stance. “Remember, cut off one head-”

“Yada yada yada,” Hawkeye interrupted. “Yeah, we’ve all heard the Hydra monologue,” And with that, Widow slipped back into their ranks and the forces of Hydra were on them. After a second, Hulk broke formation and went ahead, gleefully smashing his way through the ranks of the incoming soldiers. Iron Man placed Hawkeye at a sniper post, and provided air support, and the Black Widow backed his plays on the ground. All in all, they snapped back into their usual well-oiled method of fighting. In less than ten minutes, the attackers were all unconscious or dead.

“Widow, we got company?” Hawkeye asked abruptly, and she nodded silently.

“She says yes,” Steve relayed, stepping closer and offering her a hand. Much to his surprise, she took it, leaning heavily on his support. She must have taken a serious hit somewhere that they hadn’t noticed. “Do you need medical?” he asked her in an undertone, comms toggled off. She shook her head, and managed to regain her feet on her own. “No, I didn’t mean-” Steve started, but gave up as she strode off toward Stark Towers.

“I see ‘em,” Iron Man called. “SHIELD, coming in hot. We gotta bolt, people.” And just like that, even the injured, they disappeared around him. Widow and Hawkeye just vanished, Iron Man blasted away, and Hulk jumped so high Steve lost sight of him. He managed to get to his bike and clear the area just before SHIELD managed to put up roadblocks, and headed straight home. What a day.

~ ~ ~

Steve was Captain America. Steve, his crush from the art department with the cuddly robot designs, was Captain Goddamn America, leader of the Masked Avengers and some kind of mutant soldier. Tony was so screwed.

~ ~ ~

Nat had been inches from being compromised and had taken a full-on Hulk attack, Clint had fallen out of a building and been caught like a damsel in distress, and Tony, aka Iron Man, had a crush on _Captain America_ and Clint couldn’t even tease him about it. This was the worst day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for canon-typical violence


	3. Truth & Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for trigger warnings

Tony woke up sore and exhausted, and feeling like something important had happened the night before. He managed to get vaguely ready, headed downstairs, and waved to the front desk as he headed outside. He walked the two blocks to his favorite coffee shop, ordered his usual, and sat at the bar. He glanced around casually as he dumped six packets of sugar into his coffee and nearly dropped the precious caffeine on the floor. In the corner, looking sheepish and exhausted, Captain America was drinking coffee in a hoodie and jeans. And watching him. And he wasn’t supposed to know who he was.

“Sir?” the barista was asking him. “Sir?”

“Sorry, zoned out for a second there. What’s up?” Tony managed to say in a relatively normal tone of voice, tearing his eyes from the superhero with a latte in the corner.

“I was just asking if you were all right,” the barista, Mary, said. “That’s a nasty bruise you’ve got there.” Tony raised one hand to his cheek and winced when he felt the edges of the bruise.

“Oh, just a… workshop accident.” He smiled at her. “Nothing serious, Mary, don’t worry.”

“Well, you know,” she said, pouring a coffee and winking at him. “The tabloids would hate it if you hurt that face of yours.”

“Oh, well, since your motivations are so altruistic I suppose we can forgive your curiosity,” Tony teased.

“ _Forgive_ my curiosity?” Mary asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house, sir.” Tony laughed.

“Point taken.” He set down a couple of bills, far more than the cost of the coffee. “Keep the change.” He drained the rest of the coffee and headed out the door, waving back as Mary called a goodbye. He’d been clumsy, not realizing he’d gotten bruised in the last fight. Rushing to make it back to his office before the city fully woke up or he ran into a journalist, he ended up arriving almost an hour early. The wall around his workshop lobby had been repaired, and a new door had been put in. Clint wasn’t there yet, but Natalie was working in her office. He went to walk past her briskly, face turned away, but when he glanced at her he froze in his tracks.

“Natalie, are you alright?” he blurted without thinking. Of course, the mottled bruising along the side of her face that ran down her neck and shoulders indicated that she was not, in fact, all right. He’d almost forgotten that- “Iron Man said you’d been injured when the Hulk attacked, but I didn’t realize…” he trailed off and Natalie gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m fine, Tony,” she offered. “The doctors cleared me. No concussion or anything, just a bunch of bruises.” She paused, frowning. “And apparently I’m not the only one.” Tony reached up self-consciously to cover the bruise on his cheek.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “A workshop accident.” It had, in fact, been a well-aimed shot that his armor had barely managed to deflect.

“I didn’t realize you’d been back to the workshop since we evacuated,” Natalie said levelly. “Did you come in last night?” Tony felt suddenly, extremely exposed. She was sharp, and she noticed things. Just the kind of P.A. he needed, and just the kind that could cause him real trouble.

“Yeah, just came in to try and make it all safe. Obviously I didn’t entirely succeed,” he said, the smooth lying second nature. “But it’s annoying, because the news will be all over this if it gets out. I so much as get a scratch and some tabloid is bound to notice.”

“Well, I can help with that at least,” Natalie said, fishing something out of her purse. She stood smoothly, walking around the desk and holding out a simple compact. “May I?” Tony, thrown, nodded uncomfortably. Natalie snapped the compact open and gently brushed something across his face. She was standing very close to him, face set in concentration. One of her hands was resting on his shoulder, and the other was brushing come kind of concealer across his bruise. It was, overall, not the best place to be standing when Pepper walked into his office.

“I can come back,” she said, sounding amused. “When you’re done with your makeup routine.” Natalie held her ground for a second, dabbing at the corner of Tony’s eye, and then pulled back. To his surprise, the deadpan and unflappable woman was slightly blushing.

“Natalie!” Pepper said, now with real fear in her tone. “What happened to you?” She spun on Tony. “I give you our best assistant from the legal department for what, a week?” Tony sputtered, caught on the spot and embarrassed despite himself. It really wasn’t his fault that Natalie was injured, and it wasn’t like he and Pepper were together anymore, but she had taken special care to inform him of how inappropriate doing anything that remotely resembled anything with his P.A. was.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Potts,” Natalie reassured, putting her hands up. “Mr. Stark had nothing to do with this. We simply had an unexpected visit from the Hulk, who I’m afraid got spooked by Iron Man coming to my rescue.”

“Got spooked?” Pepper said, sounding interested and slightly less homicidal then before. “He wasn’t already?”

“Well, I tried to talk him down long enough that Captain America could evacuate the building,” Natalie said, her tone level and calm, like that was a normal thing for a personal assistant to do. “Not exactly in the job description, I know,” she continued, like she’d read his mind.

“And you’re all right, Tony?” Pepper asked. Tony glanced at Natalie, who nodded subtly. The makeup was complete, not that he had much chance at fooling Pepper. He turned to face her and she scanned him quickly and nodded.

“Good. One hurt employee is enough per office.” Pepper headed for the door, and turned back just before she left. “Foundation looks good on you, Tony,” she called back with a smirk. As soon as the door closed, Tony sank into the visitor’s chair across from Natalie’s desk.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Tony managed after a second. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Of course,” Natalie said. Something sparked in Tony’s brain, and he frowned.

“I don’t think hiding bruises with concealer is a skill in the average personal assistant’s repertoire,” he started slowly. Natalie just gazed back at him, unperturbed. “Natalie, you know if you’re not safe, or if someone hurts you, I’m sure you know Stark Industries has an excellent employee protection and family law branch.” She smiled at him and shook her head.

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Stark. But I’m not in any danger.”

“Good. But you stood up to the Hulk to protect me and my people, so if you ever need anything, I owe you one.” Natalie just shook her head again.

“I’m here to help,” she said, and then turned to look at the door. “Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” Clint, standing in the doorway, looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Tony, are you wearing foundation? And Jesus, Nat, what happened to you?” Clint frowned. “Do I need to go kill someone for you?”

“You boys are so sweet,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes.

“No, seriously, did something of Tony’s explode or what?”

“She ran into the Hulk,” Tony said lightly.

“Oh. Is he expected to recover?” Clint asked, nevertheless looking concernedly at the bruises Natalie was sporting. Tony, laughing, put his hands up and went to move into the workshop, but Clint stopped him.

“Lemme do my sweep,” he said firmly. “Things have been a little hectic lately, so I’m going to step up our security a bit.” He disappeared through the door and left Tony still standing by the doorway, Natalie calmly typing away at something.

“You two seem like you’re getting along well,” Tony said, when the silence threatened to become awkward.

“He’s passable, I suppose,” Natalie said, but an amused gleam in her eyes damaged the deadpan delivery.

“Clear!” Clint yelled from inside. “You’re free to come build your fancy toys, Boss!” Tony snorted.

“Time for work, then. Let me know if you need anything,”

“I’m fairly sure that’s supposed to be my line,” Natalie called after him. As he headed to the workbench, Clint gave him an appraising look.

“What?” Tony asked him, slumping into his chair and dragging the nearest design toward him.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Clint asked.

“Well, from what Iron Man says the Hulk threw her through a wall and she showed up to work the next day,” Tony mused out loud. “Either she really needs this job, or she’s used to getting hurt.”

“You’re thinking too much about this,” Clint declared after a second. “She pays rent in New York and she works for a billionaire. She’s probably just angling for a raise.” Tony laughed.

“Well, she’d deserve one.” But Clint’s easy confidence lessened his worries, and he dove into work without another thought about it. He only emerged again when Natalie came into the workshop bearing some kind of wax-paper wrapped packages.

“She’s an angel,” Clint said, making grabby hands at one of the bags. Natalie raised an eyebrow.

“Please miss, may I have some food?” Clint amended, and she tossed him one. She set the other by Tony’s empty coffee cup.

“Thank you,” Tony said, aiming for opening it slowly and politely but tearing it open as his rumbling stomach made itself known. “What are these?” Inside were a couple of ovular buns of delicious-smelling bread.

“Kolaches,” Natalie said with a small smile. “They’re filled pastries. Half of those are ham-and-cheese and and half are sausage-and-cheddar.”

“Why do they only specify cheddar?” Clint asked around a mouthful of pastry.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, taking a tentative bite and then another, more enthusiastically.

“Well, ham-and-cheese doesn’t specify a cheese type. But sausage-and-cheddar does?” Tony looked at Natalie. She raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug.

“Because they don’t have any cheese like cheddar in the Czech Republic,” called an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway, and Tony fought back every reaction he had to Captain America weighing in on pastry names.

“Intruder alert,” he said amicably to Clint, turning slowly to see Steve Rogers standing there, complete with civilian clothes and Stark Tech lanyard.

“Sorry,” Steve looked down at the ground, blushing slightly. “There was no one in the office.”

“That would be my fault,” Natalie admitted immediately. “Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Tony was vaguely aware that he appreciated her efforts to appear more professional and less friendly around strangers in his lab.

“No worries, Ms. Rushman,” he responded. Then, because it had to be done: “Not to be rude, but who are you?”

“Oh, sorry again,” Steve said, taking a step forward and extending his hand. “Steven Rogers. I work down in the graphic design section of HR.” Tony shook his hand, carefully not making eye contact. “I was hoping we could speak privately for a minute?” Clint, in Tony’s peripheral, shifted slightly, while Natalie simply gave him a smile and a nod and headed back to to the lobby.

“Mr. Barton is my bodyguard,” he told Steve with an exaggerated eye roll. “He gets twitchy if he can’t see me.”

“Of course, I understand,” Steve said, looking uncomfortable.

“But perhaps you would feel more comfortable with another bodyguard?” Tony suggested, an inkling of a plan forming in his mind. He keyed a quick command to Jarvis to wake up a suit in sentry mode. He beeped his own console and looked down, as if reading a text. “Iron Man is available, and he’s renowned for his ability to keep a secret.” Clint, for a second, looked like he was fighting back laughter, but the look was gone so quickly Tony thought he might have imagined it. Jarvis walked a suit in from the back of the shop, and had it flick Tony a two-fingered salute. Honestly, the AIs attention to detail was astounding.

“You’re relieved, Mr. Barton,” the suit said in the modulated voice that Steve would recognize as Iron Man. Clint waved at it, and trotted briskly to the workshop door, where Tony suspected he’d hang around, gossip with Natalie, and wait to see if anyone tried to kill his boss. Tony angled himself so that his hands were hidden from Steve and called up a predictive keyboard. Speed in typing would be of the essence here.

“So you know?” Steve asked Tony, who tilted his head. Meanwhile, his fingers danced over the keyboard.

“Let me stop you right there, sir,” Iron Man said. “Mr. Stark doesn’t know anything except that the security footage from last night was to be deleted because one of the Masked Avengers identities was in danger.” Steve looked resigned.

“Well, I figured it would come out sooner than later, and since you’re running this whole escapade I figured you had a right to know what the team knew.” He took a deep breath, like he was working himself up to something. “I am Captain America.” Tony froze for a second, in what he hoped Steve would perceive as genuine shock, and scrambled for words that would convey what Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and NOT Iron Man, would say in response to that reveal.

“Holy shit, Captain America works for me?” he managed, and since Steve threw him a sort of half-baleful, half-amused expression, he figured he’d managed to cover.

“That’s your takeaway?” Steve said, and Tony grinned back at him, lighter now that he was allowed to know what he already knew.

“What were you expecting?” Tony asked and Steve shrugged.

“Shock or horror, I suppose,”

“Well, sorry, manic glee is my go-to so I guess we’re stuck with that.” Steve actually laughed at that, and then his expression got slightly more serious.

“Iron Man, thank you for letting me choose to reveal my identity on my own time,” he said, and Tony scrambled to type out a response fast enough.

“Of course, Captain,” Iron Man said, and Tony turned to raise an eyebrow at the empty suit, feeling rather foolish. He suspected Jarvis was laughing at him.

“I have to go now,” Steve added, edging backward. “I have to redesign the Iron Legion suits.”

“That was you?” Tony asked, despite knowing the answer. “The cuddly robots thing, that was you?”

“Er… yes?” Steve asked, looking confused.

“Of course it was. Well, I green-lighted your design this morning, so feel free to take an extra long lunch break. You’ve earned it.”

“My manager said it wasn’t approved?” Steve asked, looking baffled.

“Someone with a more familiar knowledge of my interests passed the design along. I approved it, and reprimanded your manager about noticing creativity and initiative. I imagine there’s a memo in your email somewhere. Better go read it.” There was a memo, with some nicely worded compliments of the designer’s talents as well. A 100-watt grin spread across Steve’s face and he reached out to shake hands with Tony again before striding enthusiastically out of the room. A knock followed his exit, and then Clint stuck his head in the door.

“So, is Iron Man taking over my shift, or…” he trailed off, looking a little warily at the suit in the corner. Tony waved his hand, and Jarvis walked the suit off and back into its hidden alcove, around a bend and out of sight. Tony made a note to stash some suits in other places, to tighten his alibis.

“C’mon in, Barton, you’re a much cheaper bodyguard.” Clint stuck his tongue out at Tony but trooped in, looking around carefully as he entered.

“Well, Mr. Rogers seemed pleased when he left. Talk about anything interesting, or maybe about dinner plans?” Clint needled, perching on the chair nearest Tony. Tony scoffed.

“He was curious about some sensitive designs and whether his project had been approved, and I said it had. That’s all.” Something sunk in, and Tony’s brain exploded. “His fucking name is Mr. Rogers.”

“Yes, Tony.” Clint said, his voice deadly serious. “You have a crush on Mr. Rogers.” He stopped, looking contemplative. “But who doesn’t, really?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bruce woke up in an unfamiliar field, naked and chilly. That, in and of itself, was concerningly par for the course. However, the fact that there were two moons in the sky and that the tall grass around him was blue, was exceptionally unexpected.

“Well,” he said out loud, standing up without taking his gaze of the dual moons. “You’ve finally cracked, Banner.” A heavy hand landed on his bare shoulder, and he just about jumped out of his skin.

“Do not be alarmed, smaller, frailer Hulk.” A voice boomed. Bruce twisted, and the figure let him turn without resistance. “You are among friends.” A huge man stood behind him, clad in silver armor and an honest-to-god scarlet cape. His long blond hair was moving slightly in the chilly breeze, and he held a huge hammer easily in one hand.

“Um. Hi.” Bruce said, and then because all sense had deserted him anyway, asked, “Are you an alien?” The man laughed.

“Not on this planet, my friend,” he continued airily. “This is my home planet. But on Earth, where I encountered you, yes. I am Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard, and this is my home realm.”

“Cool,” Bruce said, rubbing at his temples. Yep, he was definitely crazy. “Um, no offence, Your Majesty, but what am I doing here?”

“When I had finally retrieved my hammer, I was on my way to speak to the man who had been examining it. A conversation with a lovely woman named Jane Foster and her…” Thor seemed to be searching for a word. “Her intern allowed me to see that my earlier attack upon his people was unwarranted.” Bruce was started to get some glimpses of memories back, now, but they were still awfully fragmented, more so than usual.

“I went to apologize, but part way there encountered a large green man who called himself the Hulk.” Thor continued. “We battled merrily for nearly an hour in a nearby field, but he then fell to the ground and shrank into you. As there was evidently magic involved, and since I did not know any magical practitioners on Midgard, I brought you here to seek treatment when you did not awaken.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said, after a long beat. “I’m alright now.”

“Excellent!” Thor boomed. “Would you like to return to your home planet?” Bruce flinched as a particularly violent memory surfaced. A blonde woman, slender and calm, talking slowly and soothingly. Her face as the Hulk backhanded her through a wall.

“I’m not sure I’m welcome there right now,” Bruce said honestly.

“Well, a mighty warrior such as yourself will be welcome in Asgard for as long as you would like to stay!” Thor said cheerily, steering Bruce by his shoulder toward a nearby structure. “But first, garments. Unless-” he paused, looking at Bruce with eyes that painfully resembled a sad golden retriever. “Perhaps garments are taboo for your people? If so, I apologize.”

“No!” Bruce managed, and Thor looked at him levelly. “No, I would like garments. Garments please. All the garments.” Thor beamed, and led him onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for: canon-typical violence, referenced domestic abuse, unexpected public nudity


	4. Istanbul Was Constantinople

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for trigger warnings

“This assignment is going to be the death of me,” Clint groused, flopping onto Coulson’s couch with a dramatic sigh. 

“You survived Istanbul and Baku,” Coulson said, without looking up from the files on his desk. “I’m confident you will survive this.” 

“You cannot understand the sheer level of drama these two are capable of,” Clint continued, pretending he hadn’t heard. “Literally standing in the same room making heart eyes at each other while some fake Iron Man stands in the background-”

“Careful,” Coulson warned.

“Please, like you don’t sweep for bugs every ten minutes,” Clint dismissed. “I know Fitz & Simmons love you with the entirety of their nerdy little hearts, so they probably help.” 

“I am extremely lovable,” Coulson deadpanned, flipping a page and stamping something. “Can I help you, Barton, or are you just going to camp out on my couch?” 

“Considering it,” Clint said, stretching out. The couch was awfully comfortable. “Tony gave me the morning off.” 

“Well then, while you’re here we might as well debrief,” Coulson said, putting the file down. “How’s Natalie doing in her new position?” 

“Well. Stark loves her, and she’s got him practically swearing his loyalty, especially after the thing with the Hulk.” 

“Yes, letting him see the bruises like that was a nice touch.” Coulson agreed. 

“Actually, that turned out to be a little risky. I had to talk him down from assuming she had some kind of abusive home life.” Coulson hummed thoughtfully. 

“He’s more perceptive than we’d anticipated,” he admitted. “Keep an eye on that going forward.” 

“Nat actually had another issue, but it doesn’t seem like anyone noticed.” Clint added. “She had to explain to Pepper and Tony why she talked down the Hulk while Steve ran to sound the alarm. She told them she’d been talking him down until Captain America could evacuate the building.” Coulson drew in a sharp breath.

“He was out of uniform?” he asked, and Clint nodded.

“But he’s talked in news broadcasts before,” he added. “She says it’s conceivable that Natalie would recognize his voice.” 

“I suppose. Cutting it close, aren’t we?” 

“That’s what I said,” Clint agreed. “Not to mention that Stark could realize that Cap’s cover is blown with at least one ‘civilian’ if he puts the pieces together. Any update on figuring out how Hulk stays off the radar between fights? I’m ready for the end of this assignment.” 

“Just identifying the Masked Avengers is not the full extent of this mission,” Coulson chided. “Once SHIELD has identified Hulk, your mission will fully transition into figuring out how to control the Avengers.” 

“We’re helping people,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow. “Why do we need to be controlled?” 

“You know why, Clint,” Coulson sighed. 

“Because Fury is an uptight control freak?” Clint asked, flicking a folded piece of paper so that it bounced off of Coulson’s forehead. He frowned back. “Just brainstorming here,” Clint defended, putting his hands up. 

“Well, Stark holds more cash and ready firepower than most countries, not to mention the capabilities of his suit.” Coulson said, with the air of someone explaining the obvious. “Captain America has some kind of superpower and a terrifyingly loyal cult following. And the Hulk-” 

“Okay, I get it with Hulk. What’s SHIELD’s play for controlling him, anyway? He doesn’t even listen to the Avengers.” 

“I don’t know. But we have other problems with the Hulk.” 

“You know something and we didn’t get an update?” Clint said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Rude.”  

“At this point, it’s actually faster to wait for you to wander in here than it is to use the actual dead drop,” Coulson said, and gave Clint a rare grin. Clint could feel himself blush, so he scowled and waved an impatient hand. 

“Get on with it then,” he said, and Coulson (thankfully) let it go.

“You know the blonde man who was trying to fight his way through all of the security at Stark Towers the other day?” 

“The day those gunmen tried to kidnap Stark? Yeah, I remember. Security grabbed him trying to get to that hammer-shaped asteroid thing. Stark’s geeks said it might have come here through a wormhole.” 

“Interesting,” Coulson took a note. “Well, he calls himself Thor Odinson of Asgard.”

“Like, from the Norse myths?” Clint shrugged. “Yeah, okay, not the weirdest part of my job.” 

“Well, he succeeded this time. Grabbed the hammer and got out of New Mexico. Security shows he was helped by some of the techs.” Coulson frowned. “You didn’t hear anything about this?” 

“No,” Clint confirmed. “Either he hasn’t heard or he decided I didn’t need to know.” 

“Well, he headed straight toward Stark Towers, but was intercepted on the outskirts of New York by the Hulk, fresh from the mess here.” Clint raised an eyebrow. 

“Remind me to send Hulk a nice thank-you card for stopping me from having to fight a god without Widow.”

“How are her ribs doing, anyway?” Coulson asked, momentarily sidetracked. 

“They’re healing fine. The doc says they were just cracked. Natalie didn’t tell Tony about her injuries, but I think Cap knew something was off with Widow.” Clint made a face. “But you left me hanging. What happened in the Thor vs. Hulk fight?” 

“SHIELD was watching from a safe perimeter, so our data is a little unclear, but it appears Thor knocked the Hulk unconscious. Hulk then shrank down into a human-sized individual, before Thor grabbed him and disappeared.”

“I thought SHIELD had a perimeter established?” 

“We did,” Coulson said, serious. “He didn’t leave. He disappeared into the sky in a burst of rainbow light, leaving some kind of sigils burned into the grass. SHIELD is identifying them now.” Clint was silent for a long second, processing.

“Well. Shit. Maybe this _ is _ the weirdest part of my job.” Clint finally said. “Just throwing this out there, but have we checked if any Stark Tech employees went missing? Hulk being a normal employee on occasion would explain how he appeared in the middle of Stark Towers without raising any flags.” 

“Funny you should mention that,” Coulson said. “Dr. Bruce Banner is the only New York-based Stark Tech employee unaccounted for since the fight. Specializes in, wouldn’t you know it, radiobiology.” 

“That seems a little on-the-nose.” Clint said, paging through the file. “Alright, I’ll look into this and update Nat with all the new info. Anything else for me, bossman?” 

“Be careful.” Coulson said, his tone level. “I don’t want any more calls that my agents got tossed through walls or out windows.” 

“Can’t promise you that, sir,” Clint said with an apologetic shrug. “But at least it’s better than Istanbul.” He clambered out of the clutches of the extremely comfy couch and left.

“That’s not a high bar,” Coulson called after him. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

By the time Clint finally found Nat rifling through some out-of-the-way filing cabinet, he was singing under his breath. 

“Istanbul was Constantinople, now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople,” he sang, leaning on the wall next to her.

“You’ve been teasing Coulson again, I see. Hold these,” she said, handing him a few loose files and rifling through a cabinet. He stopped singing, glancing down at the cover. In bold, sharpied words the top file declared itself as the personnel file on one Bruce Banner. She’d heard, then, or deduced. “Mr. Stark asked me for his original patent on the Iron Man armor, and I can’t-” she broke off with a muffled curse and leaned forward, tugging at some file stuck out of sight. “-can’t find it.” Clint made a show of paging through the top file, raising one eyebrow. He also, of course, memorized all the information he could see. 

“That’s probably because this isn’t the filing cabinet for patents, it’s full of employee records. You sure you didn’t hit your head when you went through that wall?” The banter was easy, weaponized, meant to charm and disarm anyone listening in. He held up the open file to show her, and her eyes flickered across it quickly. A backup of the information, just in case. 

“Ah, you know, I might have,” she said, a faint hint of a very fake blush creeping across her cheeks. “Uh, I’ll refile those.” She grabbed them out of his hand and started carefully refiling them. “Do you know where the right cabinet is?” 

“No,” Clint said, despite being very aware. “I’m just a bodyguard. And actually capable of reading.” Nat swatted at his head with the last folder and he ducked, laughing. “But I know someone who’ll know where they are.” He led her toward Coulson’s office. 

It was strange, being undercover for this long. He was a sniper at heart, and the undercover portions of Strike Force Delta’s assignments had always been Nat’s territory. He worked for a covert government agency, so he’d told his fair share of lies, but the day in-day out natur of this lie was somehow unsettling. 

“Back again, Mr. Barton?” Coulson asked, smirking at him from where he was leaned over a subordinate’s desk. 

“I brought a friend!” Clint chirped, pointed at Nat. “She’s looking for an original patent for Mr. Stark.” 

“Keep working on that, Billy.” Coulson said to the man he was assisting. Turning to Clint, he continued. “Let’s go into my office, I should be able to pull up a location for you.” Nat and Clint trailed along obediently. Clint flopped back into his previous spot on the couch and Nat sat politely at the chair in front of Coulson’s desk. Coulson closed the door, held up a finger, and pressed a button on his desk. There was a staticky sort of noise that made Clint think for a second that his hearing aids were fritzing, and then it was gone. 

“Bug sweep,” Coulson said by means of an explanation. “Sorry, Clint.” Clint’s hearing aids were reinforced SHIELD tech and therefore rarely affected by most forms of anti-spyware technology. They were even shielded from EMPs, so whatever Coulson was using was strong and likely custom. He’d been right about FitzSimmons. “What did we learn?” 

“Got his full Stark Tech dossier,” Natasha said, abruptly dropping the persona and accent of Natalie. It always amused Clint how easily she could drop a character, how she could appear totally different while not visibly changing anything at all. “Loner. Shies away from others. Had to be talked into working in a city. Brilliant scientist who always refuses promotions or press. No family.” Clint confirmed her report with a nod. 

“He fits the archetype SHIELD’s been building for a possible alter-ego then,” Coulson mused. “But there’s been no sign of him or Thor. Which file do you need?” 

“The original patent for the Iron Man armor. Tony’s getting paranoid about his tech,” Clint said, propping his feet up on the arm of the chair. “Between MODOK and Hydra coming after it, I think he’s getting amped up into doing something big and possibly stupid.” Coulson swiveled to the filing cabinet behind his desk, pulling out a file and handing it to Nat. 

“Keep a close eye on him. Don’t blow your covers unless it’s necessary to save a Masked Avenger. And Natalie,” he looked at her carefully here, and Clint felt a sudden wave of protectiveness for his partner. “Continue getting close to Stark.” 

“What did you order her to do?” he snapped, thinking back to the foundation on Tony’s face, the way the man had glanced awkwardly at Nat when he’d left the room. 

“Nothing drastic, Clint, put your hackles down.” Nat said softly. “I’m just trying to get him to like me. His reputation suggested it wouldn’t be that hard, but,” she paused, looking thoughtful. “I’m starting to suspect his reputation is carefully cultivated. I haven’t been very successful so far.” 

“Keep trying. Any way we can get any Avenger in our court would be good news. The World Security Council is on our backs about this. Dismissed.” Nat took the file, and when she’d stood up Natalie was firmly back in place. 

“Thanks for your help, Clint,” she said to him as they left Coulson’s office. He smiled smugly at her and tried to ignore his sense that something was going to go wrong with this absolutely ridiculous mission all the way back up to Tony’s workshop. It almost worked, too. They were steps away from the workshop when he felt a deep rumbling that felt like it shook his very bones. Several security alarms all blared at once, and he made eye contact with Nat for a split second before they bolted in opposite directions. Clint made it into the workshop, glancing around for Tony. No sign of him. He’d been in the office, so he should be headed down to the bunker. He bolted, slamming through the door to the stairwell and making it down the stairs in record time. No sign of Stark. He chimed the comms unit in the safe room, but there was no response. Worried, he opened the door with a quick swipe of his card. Tony Stark, half way into an Iron Man suit, looked up. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Clint said, eyes wide in supposed complete shock. Shit, this wasn’t in the mission plan. Coulson was going to kill him. 

“Ah, fuck.” Tony said. “I can explain. Iron Man took the day off, and I thought I’d just-” he broke off, looking behind him at the open wall of his safe house exposing a variety of different Iron Man suits. “Um, I keep these here for him and I thought I’d just-” he broke off again. “Okay, I don’t have time for this,” he snapped, finally. “I am Iron Man. Clear the building. I don’t need a bodyguard and we have some kind of Norse God invasion.” 

“What?” Clint said, rooted to the spot. 

“Evacuate the building, NOW!” Tony yelled, snapping the last of the armor on and slamming his faceplate down. Clint went. Or at least, he went as far as his weapons and uniform stash and then he suited up, slipping a comm unit on over his ear. He spared half a second to wave at the security camera for Daisy when she edited him out of the footage. He listened as he bolted from his hiding spot to the roof. 

“Widow, seven minutes out,” he heard Nat snap. They concealed their true arrival times as a matter of course, to ensure that no one figured out that they worked at Stark Towers.

“On the scene,” Iron Man said, sounding shaken. “It looks like there’s someone on the roof.”  His vocal modulator still sounded strange to Clint, even though he knew he sounded similar over the comms.   
“I’m here,” Captain America said. Steve had no such compunctions. He’d been dead certain that no one would connect the quiet artist to the massively popular mutant hero, but Clint had found him out in the first couple of weeks of working at Stark Towers. He’d gone to make small talk, since he’d noticed Stark’s crush, and as soon as he’d heard Steve’s voice he’d sent a quick report to Coulson. 

“Strike that, there’s two people on the roof. I’m going to communicate, open broadcast,” Tony called, and there was a hiss of an open channel followed by the distinctive sound of metal boots hitting the ground. 

“On my way up, give me five minutes,” Steve said, sounding out of breath. Clint suspected he was sprinting up the stairs. 

“Hello,” Iron Man said over the channel. “Identify yourselves.” 

“I am Thor Odinson, The Crown Prince of Asgard,” boomed an impressively regal voice. “This is my friend, Dr. Bruce Bannerson of Stark Tech. We have come to warn you, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, of a grave threat to your world.” 

“Oo….kay?” Iron Man said, clearly thrown. “Hello Prince Thor, I see you got your hammer back.” 

“Yes!” Thor boomed cheerily. “Your staff was very kind in helping me retrieve my property and informing me of the reasons why you withheld it from me. There is no grudge between us.” 

“That’s encouraging, Point Break,” Iron Man quipped. Another heavy thunk. Clint imagined Iron Man taking a step forward. His randomly assigned five minutes up, he called over the comms. 

“Hawkeye here, I’m almost at the roof.” Just as he pulled the stairway door open, a blur of red, white, and blue shot past him. “And I’m assuming the patriotic stampede that just passed me was you, Cap.” 

“Sorry, Hawkeye,” Steve panted, and there was a metallic clunk over Iron Man’s open line as Steve kicked the door open above him. Tony hurriedly shut off the channel to avoid feedback, leaving Clint without any data as he bolted up the last flight of stairs. As he opened the door, he found a huge, muscular man beaming at Iron Man and Captain America. His long blonde hair was blowing dramatically in the wind. Next to him, half behind him and looking rather scruffy in too-large leather armor. However, his salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly and he was looking at them.

“Hello,” he called softly. 

“You’re Dr. Banner. From my labs.” Tony said flatly, like he could be no further confused or surprised. “Why are you here with a Norse God?” 

“Technically, I think he’s an alien.” Bruce said, and Thor threw his head back and laughed like he’d said something funny.

“On this planet, indeed,” he said to Bruce, who smiled back faintly. 

“Warning.” Widow hissed over the comms, and Clint fought back a smile. 

“I’m confused,” Clint said loudly, raising his arm. “Is anyone else confused?” 

“Why would you be confused by an alien god prince?” Tony said, cynical humor now back in place. All three of them studiously ignored Widow, creeping up behind the two men with a gun aimed at the back of both of their heads. Thor took a step forward and everyone snapped to alert.

“Don’t move.” Steve said, stepping forward and raising his shield. 

“That would be most unwise,” Thor said without any of the cheer leaving his tone. “I’m not sure if your Midgardian weapons could damage me, but it seems likely you would anger the good doctor here, and while I greatly enjoy sparring with the Hulk he does appear to have little to no regard for architecture.” 

“That’s the Hulk?” Steve breathed, and Clint saw Nat stiffen behind the strangers.

“This is a shitshow,” Tony said lightly. 

“Language!” Cap scolded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for canon-typical violence, references to domestic abuse, references to non-con underconver relationships

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for canon-typical violence


End file.
